Gifts: Visible & Invisible: Visible & Invisible Series

PRAISE FOR GIFTS

Wow! What an amazing collection of Christmas stories! I know not everyone likes short stories, but I love them, and this collection is amazing! Short stories are a different art form than novels. For a short story to be good, the writing needs to be tighter and crisper. And each of the 8 in this collection are very well written. One of the things I normally love about reading anthologies is discovering new authors. But that was not the case this time. I have read books by all of the contributors and had high expectations for this collection. I loved the anthology Secrets Visible & Invisible from the authors at Catholic Teen Books.

…For fans of the authors in this collection, you need to pick this book up to read their contribution. For readers who love remarkable stories, this collection is also for you. If you want some great reads that are clean Catholic\Christian fiction focused around the holidays, this is the book for you… (Full review on BookReviewsAndMore.ca)

STEVEN R. McEVOY, BookReviewsAndMore.ca

God bless these talented Catholic authors for putting together short stories, that are set in vastly different time periods, yet bring home the significance of humility, forgiveness, and the spirit of Christmas throughout the year. The thing that Catholics all over the world are taught to do is to live like Jesus, and lead with Love! If a smile or kind gesture will change a life, I know reading this book will change yours. Yes, Catholic families everywhere will need this in their collections!   

EMILY DAVIS, Catholic Blogger

No cartoon characters saving Christmas by making sure presents happen, or mistletoe moments with less substance than a snowflake here. These 8 stories entertain and edify the young-adult reader and satisfy that Christmas craving for something more, which can only be fulfilled by Jesus. Each story stands alone, but many are connected to other work by the authors from Catholic Teen Books.

BARB SZYSZKIEWICZ, Managing Editor, Today’s Catholic Teacher and Editor, CatholicMom.com

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GIFTS

Visible and Invisible

By Catholic Teen Books Authors:

Susan Peek

Katy Huth Jones 

Carolyn Astfalk 

Theresa Linden

Leslea Wahl

Cynthia T. Toney

T. M. Gaouette

Corinna Turner

Collection Copyright © 2019 Catholic Teen Books

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License Notes

This eBook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This eBook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to your favorite eBook retailer and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of these authors.

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DEDICATION

For Saint Thérèse of Lisieux, model of love, who, in sharing her Christmas conversion story, wrote, It was December 25, 1886, that I received the grace of leaving my childhood, in a word, the grace of my complete conversion . . . I felt charity enter into my soul, the need to forget myself and to please others; since then I’ve been happy!

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CONTENTS

FOREWORD - Cathy Gilmore, Virtue Works Media

1. THE OUTLAWS’ FRIEND - Susan Peek

2. IN THE STEPS OF A SAINT - Katy Huth Jones

3. A PERFECT CHRISTMAS - Carolyn Astfalk

4. OPERATION GIFT DROP - Theresa Linden

5. CHRISTMAS ANGEL - Leslea Wahl

6. SIGNS OF CHRISTMAS - Cynthia T. Toney

7. JUST JESUS - T. M. Gaouette

8. A VERY JURASSIC CHRISTMAS EVE - Corinna Turner

Other Books by the Catholic Teen Books Authors

Boring Legal Bit

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FOREWORD

by Cathy Gilmore

Virtue Works Media

Do you read the Foreword in books? I don’t often read them. Yet, I’m here writing one for you. So, I better make it good, right? Rather than preparing you for what is to come in this collection of short stories, I want to give you the reasons why you’ll want to read them.

This is not your ordinary book, written by ordinary authors. This is a creative team of writers who could craft status-quo stories that conveniently leave out all reference to the ancient, yet timeless, Catholic faith in their work. But they don’t. They could use cheap marketing tactics and saturate their writing with sexual explicitness and profanity. But they don’t.

These authors don’t tell you to Dare to be different. They show you. They whisper to your soul in characters, dialogue, and settings that your life can be a GREAT story, one that includes a lifestyle of authentic Catholic faith. They take the time to craft scenes for you to imagine true goodness and redemption, in which the practical value of virtue is demonstrated on each page. And the bonus you receive is that in GIFTS, Visible & Invisible, you get all that wrapped up in a great Christmas vibe that you can climb back into anytime.

I invite you to get to know the authors of Catholic Teen Books and enjoy their work. Let them transform your assumptions and dispel the modern myths. Stories which affirm faith and virtue are NOT boring. Lives that are infused with the grace of faith and the valor of virtue are the greatest of adventures. I’m confident that you’ll be surprised by how much you enjoy these stories which portray an array of genres, from warm family calamity to action-packed futuristic friendship.

Enjoy each story and its unique style, and ask yourself, how would you write that story? Could you tell that kind of story in your own way? We need courageous young Catholic writers. We need you to imagine and dream us a world where Jesus is welcome, the beauty of selfless sacrifice is valued, and the ugliness of evil can be overcome. What you imagine today can be tomorrow’s reality. Read Catholic Teen books because we need you to write Catholic teen books... and change the world.

Cathy Gilmore

Founder / Executive Director, Virtue Works Media

Discover more great things to READ, WATCH & LISTEN at VirtueWorksMedia.com

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Every good gift and every perfect gift is from above,

coming down from the Father of lights with whom

there is no variation or shadow due to change.

(James 1:17)

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Historical

1

THE OUTLAWS’ FRIEND

by Susan Peek

Superior, Wisconsin, 1896

Barney, would you please listen to us? his brother Gus begged. This is crazy. He screwed up his face and slapped a hand to his forehead. Just plain crazy!

Barney opened his mouth to speak, but changed his mind.

Their other brother Pat set his jaw, crossed his arms, and blocked the front doorway. At least don't leave till after Christmas. His eyes held a dare.

He's right, Barn. What difference will three days make? Gus joined Pat at the threshold, adding his own muscle and matching Pat's glare.

Their youngest brother Owen stubbornly hefted Barney's wooden traveling trunk—the one given him by, of all people, the outlaw Cole Younger of the notorious Jesse James Gang—and began to lug it back towards their bedroom.

Barney intercepted him, grabbing the handle with a huff. He instantly felt childish, as if they were kids fighting over a toy instead of the mature young men they were. I can't believe this. My own brothers are ganging up on me.

For a few seconds, he and Owen grappled over the trunk.

Look, we don't object to you going. But why leave Wisconsin tonight? Owen clenched his teeth. Then his hand slipped, and he relinquished his grip with a sigh.

Barney nearly stumbled back with the sudden full weight of the trunk.

Owen extended his palms toward Barney. Come on, Barn. Just stay one last Christmas. For Ma and Pa's sake. His eyes pleaded.

Barney glanced at Ma, pale-faced and silent across the fire-lit room, and a lump rose in his throat. For all he knew, he might never see her and Pa again, nor his nine brothers and four sisters. And that hurt. Ma stood at the table, busying her trembling hands by wrapping the bread, cheese, and salted pork that would serve as Barney's breakfast and lunch tomorrow. A delicate wood-carved nativity set, minus the much-awaited Infant, graced the corner behind her, next to a lopsided but charming Christmas tree. Hand-made decorations, holding years of precious memories, adorned its boughs.

Ma . . . I . . . Barney faltered, the words jamming in his throat. How could he leave them three days before Christmas?

The shutters rattled. Wind whistled through the cracks around the door as the storm outside grew in strength.

Ma raised her head and looked at Barney, her gentle eyes brimming with tears. For the first time since the Blessed Virgin had spoken to him thirteen days ago, Barney's resolve wavered. Could Ma see the anguish in his eyes? Did she understand that he must leave tonight, immediately, because if he didn't, he would chicken out and let the Blessed Mother down forever?

Not that Ma had any idea God's Mother was behind this.

Ma wiped her hands on her worn apron and shoved a loose strand of graying hair behind her ear. The corners of her mouth lifted slightly, as if she were attempting to smile, but a single tear escaped and slipped down her cheek. A blizzard's blowing in. Please, Bernard, promise me you'll be careful. She always used his baptismal name. She swiped impatiently at the tear but didn't try to stop him from leaving. A woman who had borne sixteen children and buried two, Ma couldn't be selfish if she tried. But worry filled her eyes. Little wonder. Boarding a train with an oncoming blizzard wasn't normally a smart idea.

But nothing about this was normal.

To his shame, Barney couldn't hold her gaze. If he did, he would call this whole thing off. He let his eyes slide from Ma's distraught face and they snagged on Cole Younger's trunk. The irony of an infamous outlaw's trunk holding his possessions seemed suddenly comical and Barney had an irrational urge to laugh. God sure did have a sense of humor. Barney had carried the chest—a strange but sincere gift—out of the Minnesota State Prison a couple of years ago, never dreaming it would later be stuffed with his own belongings and hauled to a new prison four states away.

Because that's where Barney was headed. To prison.

For life.

With no parole.

His humor drained, replaced by a fresh stab of dread.

Near the door, Pat unfolded his arms in defeat and shook his head. That train won't make it five miles from the station, let alone all the way to Michigan.

Gus added, We're warning you, Barn, this is insane.

Seventy hours and hundreds of miles later, plowing through treacherous waist-high snow on a locomotive that a tortoise could outrace, Barney wondered if his brothers had, in fact, been right. This did seem insane. His heart sank with something akin to despair.

He leaned forward on the hard seat and strained, once again, to see out the ice-caked window. His exhausted reflection stared back at him with bloodshot eyes and three days' stubble. Beyond his mirrored face, snow slapped viciously against the glass pane. Beyond that, Barney could see nothing but deep darkness. This had to be the blizzard of the century. Howling wind rattled the carriage windows, while passengers huddled miserably under blankets and bulky coats. It was impossible to tell where they were. In the woods? Passing through a town? Chugging through a bustling city?

Barney slumped back, his stomach knotting. How much longer? It was Christmas Eve. Would he make it to Detroit in time for Christmas Midnight Mass? Or even the morning Mass? At this rate, he would probably spend the most beautiful day of the year stuck in some impassible snowdrift on a cold locomotive. He should have listened to his brothers.

He sighed, wishing he could at least quiet his churning mind with sleep. He'd never been so tired in his life. He'd hardly slept since the train departed the station a lifetime ago. Surely they must be in Michigan by now, but with the train trudging so slowly, often only twelve miles an hour through the raging wind and snow, the journey was taking forever. What if they got stranded? What if the train derailed on the icy tracks? Which was worse—dying in a snowstorm on a frozen train or living the rest of his life in prison?

Stop calling it that, he ordered himself. Sorry, Blessed Mother.

Contrite, Barney fumbled in his pocket for his rosary beads. Sleep was impossible, so he might as well pray. His fingers groped around the worn material of his pocket, but the beads weren't there. Huh. Maybe they'd dropped to the floor.

Barney bent over and felt near his feet. His hand brushed the trunk under his seat. What would Cole Younger think if he knew where his trunk would wind up? Barney almost chuckled. In another cell, that's where. Shoved under a narrow iron bed with a thin mattress and a single brown blanket. Not too dissimilar from Cole's own jail cell. There was a difference though. A big difference. Cole was locked up because he rejected God and broke His laws. Barney would relinquish his freedom because he wanted to save souls like Cole's.

The trunk held little. A couple of shirts, an extra pair of trousers. A razor. Why'd he bring the razor? Stubbornness maybe. The shirts and trousers would be useful for a few weeks before being replaced. The razor was useless already. Barney would never shave again.

He wouldn't even get to keep his name, let alone his smooth jawline.

Why are you sending me here, Blessed Mother? You know I have an aversion to beards!

It was a pathetic thing to be afraid of, growing a beard. But there it was, that darn-awful revulsion for the long, loathsome, bushy beards he knew his comrades would sport. And as if looking at them wasn't bad enough, he'd soon have one draped from his own face as well. Barney's tidy, clean-cut nature balked at the very thought.

He tried to picture Saint Francis with a flowing beard and recoiled at the image. I blame you for this, Saint Francis. It's your fault, you know. At that moment, his hand brushed something under his seat near the trunk. Must be his rosary. He swiped it up, sat back, and closed his eyes to pray.

The familiar motion of slipping the beads through his fingers calmed him, as it always did. He tried to concentrate on the prayers, but his mind wandered from exhaustion, and instead of thinking of the mysteries of the rosary, his thoughts drifted back to his boyhood.

As often happened when he held his rosary, his memory locked on that one incredible, life-altering night many years ago. The remembrance of it was as vivid now as when it had happened. Barney had been especially tired that evening. After a long day of farm chores, he'd been tempted to dispense with his usual habit of praying the rosary before bed. He didn't give in. Swaying on his knees, fighting off sleep, he'd somehow managed to rattle off five decades before collapsing into bed. That night he had a dream.

He was hanging over a bottomless pit of fire, gripped with terror and about to fall in. Panic swelled. All was lost. Suddenly he